


Blue, Green, and Hazel Makes Three

by iammisscullen



Series: My Zarry Alphabet [1]
Category: One Direction
Genre: A bit of pinning, AU, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, University Students, mention of the other lads, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4287285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iammisscullen/pseuds/iammisscullen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a date. A date. And if you look up date – in the non-calendar meaning – it’s synonyms would be kissing, holding hands, and maybe will be fucking later. But none of the above was happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue, Green, and Hazel Makes Three

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Another additional to my Zarry Alphabet short fics.  
> This was inspired by a Tumblr post (which I could no longer find). Kudos to the one who made it. It was summat like this: 'Don't take me to the Aquarium because I will be busy looking at the fishes than at you.'  
> Hastily beta-ed, so all mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

_O is for Oceanarium_

//

_The first time_

_I heard my name_

_in your mouth,_

_the ground felt like_

_a language I haven’t_

_spoken in years._

_I forgot everything_

_I knew about gravity._

**-Rudy Francisco**

**_//_ **

****

**_**_ **

Harry should have asked Louis. Or maybe even Niall. Or maybe he should have just gone to Liam for advice; because right now, it seemed like he didn’t made a very wise decision.

He tried to Google it. He honestly did, as embarrassing as it may have sounded.

Not that Google didn’t helped. It did actually because now, here he was, looking at himself on the mirror for the hundredth time for the last 5 minutes or so.

He fixed his hair and stared at his clothes: black skinny jeans, his favourite brown Chelsea ankle boots, and a white Rolling Stone band tee that had seen better days (it’s his lucky shirt). He doesn’t look bad. He knew he will never look bad, people always told him that he’s handsome no matter what he wore.

It wasn’t his clothes that made his fingers frantic or his hands to shake. It was the fact that something _always_ goes wrong with his plans. And he doesn’t want that to happen now. Not today maybe, just _not_ today.

So he opened his black Jansports again to be sure that he had everything he needed. He threw in his asthma inhaler – that he hasn’t used for 2 years now – just in case he may need it. He doesn’t want to end up in the hospital today if something bad happens. It was etched into his mind that something do _always_ happen to him, usually something he doesn’t like.

But he prayed to every deity or whoever was present up in the heavens to hear him out for once in his life. He needed this day to go smoothly as possible.

He had been planning this for months – yes, exactly months with an _s_.

Google pulled through actually. After months of decision making as to what to do, searching and searching for answers on the web and books – he finally learned where the library was (he can’t believe he actually lived a few metres away from the British Library) and what’s the closest bookstore to him in Great Percy Street. Harry found his answer.

It’s not really as secret – well, maybe it was since none of his friends knew about today. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to share – Harry’s like the most open book of a person ever. It was that he knew that this wasn’t a big deal.

Or so he told himself as he went out the door to his flat and walked to King’s Cross station.

**

He said that he’ll be outside the Sea Life London Aquarium at 10 o’clock. And according to his watch, it was already 16 minutes after 10, but his companion was nowhere to be found.

Knots formed in Harry’s stomach and a heavy weight befell in his heart. What if this will be the accident of the day? What if _he_ doesn’t come? What if –

‘Hey,’ someone screamed from afar and Harry immediately turned to the speaker because he knew that voice by heart, heard it in his dreams a thousand of times that it was stuck in his head like a Last Song Syndrome.

The weight in his chest was lifted; his stomach doesn’t churn anymore with fear. But his hands remained to tremble with excitement and worry.

He forgot it all, the natural instinct of his body when he’s nervous about something: university interview, stage performance, first dates. All he can process was the dark haired boy with olive skin that was heading his way.

Harry must have watched too much movies, or he was far too gone for Zayn because he felt like _Close to You_ was playing as Zayn walked towards him. For a second, Harry felt that a flock of birds did appear and the stars did fall from the sky as he watched Zayn slowly paced to where he was, wearing an MTV shirt with ripped off sleeves and black skinny jeans.

Zayn’s right arm was full of ink and Harry almost lost his balance trying not to obviously stare at the exposed treasure that he got the honour of seeing today. He does know that Zayn will be closer in a few seconds and he’ll get a great chance to do his inspection – but where was the thrill in that?

Cheekbones, high-lightened by the sun above them, long lashes that casted shadows on his cheeks, and a face that could definitely launch a thousand ships – that was Zayn Malik.

But Harry’s past all that perfection and that thank-you-for-blessing-this-world-with-your-face thing about Zayn (actually he’s not over it – there will be no moving on from it for this lifetime or the next one or the one after that, to be honest). What mattered to Harry at this point – despite all Zayn being all broody 24/7 and shutting people away – was that Zayn has a soul, and a heart.

It was the beginning of autumn when Harry first saw Zayn – all cuddly in that brown jumper that was far too big for him but his eyes were piercing, a complete opposite of his appearance. And Harry would have been intimidated – should have kept away since – but that day, when the orange leaves were falling from the trees as the cold wind blew, Zayn was picking up a battered box full of kittens.

Harry had heard about those kittens that morning, the one that was near the Art Building. It was one of the topics of the chinwags earlier that day – an abandoned litre of kittens. No one dared to help them, not even Harry because he was too busy with his next class, Introduction to Literature and the one after that was American and the Vietnam War which he has a quiz to revise for.

He was now regretting taking English Lit. and History. So much for revising about dead people.

But Harry was on his way to his last class when he saw Zayn and that old box. It made him stop on his tracts and stare. Zayn Malik, the infamous blunt badboy from the Graphics Design course was carrying a bunch of kittens.

He’d be lying if he said he was never doubtful as to what Zayn’s planning to do with the unfortunate creatures. He did follow him to be sure, to be fully peaceful that Zayn doesn’t plan on drowning them or selling them on the black market in exchange for a pack of cigarettes.

Of course he missed his final class, British Foreign and Defence Policy, but to hell with that – it would be hypocrite of him to study about all those shitty subjects but completely lose his sense of moral.

Surprising enough, for Harry that is, Zayn took the kittens to the clinic. And standing outside the glass window of the place, Harry can see how Zayn talked to the group of young Nursing students – must have been Freshmen, in Harry’s opinion – and handed over to them the box full of kittens.

And just to be really sure for the safety of the kittens, Harry stayed till Zayn was gone to investigate as to what the students will do with the little cats.

Beatrice, one of the students, said that Zayn asked them after lunch if they were interested to have a pet or if they knew anyone who was. They found enough people to take care of the six kittens and Zayn brought them that afternoon so the new owners can fetch them the next day when they were properly nourished and rested.

Harry fell for Zayn then, fell so hard he felt like he will never be able to stand up. And damn, Harry doesn’t want to stand again if it’s Zayn he’s on top of. Nothing could be bad with that.

‘M’sorry for being late,’ Zayn said bashfully when he was near Harry. He arranged the strap of his sling bag on his shoulder. ‘A bit of rush on the tube.’

Harry understood, it was Saturday and people go out to enjoy their weekends. But mostly, the city was full of tourist on June because of the nice weather. Summer always drew people to London.

‘It’s okay,’ Harry assured, nonchalantly looking over at Zayn’s glorious ink-filled arm. ‘You ready?’

Zayn looked at Harry then at the building behind him sceptically like he wasn’t sure if Harry’s pranking him or if the boy was serious.

Harry smiled, seeing Zayn’s look of disbelief. ‘They have Gentoo penguins.’

Zayn smiled. It was small and full of incredulity but Harry thought that it was a good sign; he felt that the heaven itself was smiling down on him. Good sign – today was going to be a good day.

‘C’mon,’ he said, consciously this time but he trusted his intuition with choosing the Aquarium; there was no need to be nervous because backing out right now will be worse than being rejected later. Or so he convinced himself.

**

Harry wasn’t wrong, Zayn looked like he gave him the entire galaxy in his hands. Zayn didn’t appreciate the Tidal Reach section much but the next stop, Ray Lagoon, made his eyes grew wide like saucers, lips hanging open as they watch Manta rays, Eagle Spotted rays, some Califorian Bat rays as well.

It was suppose to be a date, with Harry’s mind on casually holding Zayn’s hands and probably cheekily saying, ‘Oh my gosh, how did my hand get there.’ But of course, the universe still hated him, gave him this opportunity to take Zayn on a date but not being able to touch the boy who was merely a few inches next to him.

And when they got to the Ocean Tunnel, everything went from bad to worse. Zayn was so lost under the sea. Sure enough, Zayn’s not pushing himself on the glass like the other 8 years old do around them, he actually had both of his hands on his pockets; but Zayn had completely forgotten Harry’s existence as he stared intensely at the fish swimming over them.

‘Look it’s a school of Sargo,’ Zayn pointed out a school of fish that closely resembled the one Harry’s Mum barbequed last weekend.

Harry noticed the thick sweats that were forming on Zayn’s forehead. God! Even his sweat sparkled in the poor lighting. Harry licked his lips because they were chapped and he couldn’t help but imagine wetting them using Zayn’s sweat, which was a disgusting thought and really creepy.

But fuck! Harry would bet his whole life saving that Zayn’s sweat will taste like the water from the Alps. If only he can taste them. And soon enough, his frustration ate him up.

This was a date. A date. And if you look up date – in the non-calendar meaning – it’s synonyms would be _kissing, holding hands,_ and maybe _will be fucking later_. But none of the above was happening.

Zayn was more interested with the fish than he was of Harry; coolly, pointing out Flame Angel fishes, Yellow Tangs, and a Panther Grouper. Harry can tell how much Zayn was holding back, can see the fireworks behind the boy’s eyes even when he tried to keep his voice even; and there was something else that he can’t name. Harry knew the excitement peeling from Zayn’s skin as they stay there and watched the fishes.

Then when a giant octopus swam above them on the crystal tunnel, Zayn followed it with a grin so big it broke Harry’s frustration. Zayn should always be smiling that big, it made him look like a blooming flower in spring – so beautiful that it’s so painful to watch, knowing that it’ll be gone in the fall.

But Harry wanted that smile to remain on Zayn’s face, passing all the seasons to come. He also wanted that smile to be on him, for him.

‘Did you see that?’ Zayn said excitedly, every word coming out like it was a festival. ‘That was so sick, Haz.’ Zayn’s smile was on Harry now, it was so so so bright that it was hard to look at – like staring up at the sun – but he didn’t look away, he wanted to savour it. If he goes blind after, he won’t regret that Zayn’s smile was the last thing he saw.

‘I did,’ Harry answered, smiling back because he can’t help it; not when Zayn’s eyes were crinkling and his nose was scrunched up – so much happiness in a face that Harry wished he could paint just to preserve that joy, to get to look at forever when times were tough.

Zayn’s back into gazing at the sea creatures again, the smile still on his face and Harry had to step back, gather his thoughts as realisation hit him. That smile on Zayn’s face, that huge smile like the whole universe fitting in Zayn’s face – Harry put that there.

Harry was able to make Zayn smile, broody Zayn who does nothing but stare and be blunt and be gorgeous. Harry etched that beautiful piece of paradise in Zayn’s face. It was better than any touch of skin, any contact of lips.

**

Who knew that a lad like Zayn would love jellyfishes? Or maybe it was the array of colour in the tank that was reflected on the jellyfishes as well that made Zayn look like he was swallowing up rainbows. Not that Harry thought rainbows were edible or tangible to begin with.

Most of the jelly exhibit made up of the Moon Jellyfish. They were translucent like any normal jellyfish but in their centre – Harry wondered if you call that a head or a body? – is four little petal like shape that lightened up in the dark.

‘They’re so many,’ Zayn said casually like he was only stating an obvious fact so there was no making the matter bigger. But Harry can hear it – feel it almost – the high vibration in Zayn’s voice that simply say how much in awe he really was than he was letting on. ‘And so beautiful.’ There was reverie in his voice this time.

‘Yeah,’ Harry agreed but he was looking at Zayn. And nothing could be more beautiful than the boy beside him. He was willing to fight anyone who question that fact.

They went to the Mastigias Jellyfish next. These were still short tentacle ones with fluffy looking ends. Harry was reminded of a mushroom in a ballgown.

‘They are the ones you can find in lake Palau,’ Zayn informed. ‘Have you heard of that place?’ He stared at Harry.

Harry flushed, not because he did not know the answer but because he felt like he was caught staring into something he shouldn’t. Not that Zayn seemed to mind Harry staring, he hasn’t complained or maybe he had not noticed. The latter punched Harry in the heart. And not the good kind.

Zayn looked back on the white spotted tentacle jellyfishes again. ‘Maybe we could go there someday,’ he said genuinely like it was an irrevocable event.

The _someday_ was what hanged on Harry’s mind the most. _Someday_ doesn’t sound so far when Zayn said it, doesn’t sound so impossible. The future tend to be something Harry had been scared of. But the future was where that _someday_ can be found, so Harry has something to look forward to about the future that doesn’t want to make him hide under the safety of his duvet.

Lastly, they went to see the Blue Jellyfish which Harry really believed to be those broad plated mushrooms that his sister, Gemma, used to experiment in Biology class when she was in high school. Only that they have tentacles like any jellyfish.

‘I always wanted to be a Marine Biologist when I was small,’ Zayn confessed, putting his palm against the cold aquarium glass like he was trying to touch the creatures on the other side.

‘What happened?’ Harry asked feeling that Zayn’s the type who needed a little push at times to continue, a little sign of encourage to assure him that he was being listened to.

Zayn shrugged casually, the cool one he does when he was pretending to be okay but isn’t. And Harry doesn’t know how he knew about the little things that made Zayn – Zayn.

‘Life happened, I think,’ he answered with a laugh hinting a bit of sadness that Harry didn’t like hearing. Not when it was in Zayn’s own laughter because Zayn deserved better. Deserved all the happiness that the world can offer. ‘And maybe, I also got scared of the water.’

And for the first time, Harry realised that Zayn had kept both of his hands the entire time on each of his jean pockets. The other one he was finally taking out and put to his side was shaking.

‘Are you okay?’ Harry asked worriedly, can’t take his eyes off of Zayn’s shaking hand like it belonged to a smoker itching for a cigarette. ‘Zayn?’

‘I’m really sorry, Harry,’ Zayn begun, ‘I know how much you wanted to go here but I –’ He got cut off at midsentence as he fainted.

He caught Zayn quickly enough before the floor did. This day was turning out to be bad but at least not worse than Zayn being hurdled to the A&E for a broken neck, or a broken nose, or a head concussion.

‘Zayn?’ Harry shook the other boy. ‘Zayn?’

No answer. He should probably call some help or someone who can deal with medical stuff or emergency because he’s a Literary Historian and not a Nurse or a Doctor in the making.

‘Zayn?’ he tried again. His other arm was supporting Zayn’s neck, the other holding the boy firmly by the waist to keep him from rolling to the floor. People were starting to stare. ‘Zayn?’

Zayn slowly opened his eyes. He looked like he had been drugged. Eyes out of focus and he was sweating and Harry can feel that his skin was cold.

‘Hey,’ Zayn said weakly, a small smile on his lips.

‘Do you need to go to the hospital?’ Harry asked anxiously; other hand fluttering around Zayn’s upper body, checking for some sign of something broken maybe – and no, he tried not to think of the toned muscles that he had the pleasure of groping because this was an emergency. He was such a bad person, thinking of his own craving at times like this. He’s surely going to hell.

Zayn took some time to process the question before answering, ‘No need.’

‘Are you sure?’ Harry asked, checking Zayn’s face for any bruise that he might have missed or something like a sudden nosebleed. He clearly doesn’t know what happened to people who fainted.

Why did Zayn faint to begin with? It surely couldn’t be because Zayn was pregnant. He watched too many melodramas.

‘Yeah,’ Zayn replied. ‘I’m fine.’ He put on another smile, a small one. ‘Can you help me up? People are staring.’

‘Sure,’ Harry answered. He wasn’t sure f it was a good idea since on dramas they let the patient lie down in place and not move them because it may make matters worse if something was indeed broken. But Harry trusted Zayn, knew that the boy won’t insist if there was any injury.

And slowly, he helped Zayn up to his feet but never taking his arm around him to support the other boy in case another faint session happen.

‘Thanks,’ Zayn said almost embarrass.

Harry figured Zayn never needed anyone’s help, always doing things on his own. And he wanted so much to tell Zayn that he can lean on him if he ever needed help, or an ear to listen to, or someone to rescue cats with. He wanted to assure Zayn that he doesn’t have to face the whole world on his own.

**

They were both silent on their walk to Lambert Palace Garden. Harry’s almost sure he should deliver Zayn to St. Thomas’ A&E just to be certain.

They found themselves at the palace’s façade, under a tree because the benches offer no shade for them if they sit down. Harry stared up at the azure sky and thought that it was a good day for a picnic. Sadly, he had not thought that they’d go this far if he was honest; so, he doesn’t have any food.

‘I can’t tell you how much I’m grateful for saving me back there,’ Zayn started, looking away, still embarrassed.

‘I don’t understand though,’ Harry said cautiously, not sure how much Zayn was willing to share or what the other boy was fine sharing. He was afraid that he asked the wrong question, Zayn will leave and that was it.

But Harry couldn’t be bother if Zayn reject him that moment with the thought that Harry was too nosy and too weird. Harry was more concerned that Zayn will leave and never be ever again to trust another human being with his thoughts. That was the worst that could happen.

‘If you were scared of water, why did you accept my offer?’ he asked, hesitantly and adding, ‘It’s okay if you don’t answer.’

And for a moment, Harry thought that it will forever be a mystery but then Zayn answered, ‘I wanted to not be scared anymore.’

There was a rueful smile on Zayn’s lips as he stared at his hands, no longer shaking but Harry can almost see that the trace of fear written on Zayn’s hands like a memory – a post note that could never be forgotten.

Zayn looked up to him. ‘And you make me want to be brave.’

Harry was taken aback by that. There was a swell in the depths of his heart that wanted to sing and rejoice. He wasn’t proud that he scared the living daylights out of Zayn or making the other boy uncomfortable; but he was overjoyed by the idea that someone trusted him, honest to God made them want to leap into the abyss with Harry.

At the same time, Harry was overwhelmed. Clumsy Harry who can’t even walk a straight line without tripping twice, who will probably burn down the entire Great Percy Street (and Louis will probably tear his ear with the telling off he’ll get from the boy for having the trouble of looking for a new flat that was near their uni) because he left one of his lit yoga candle again near the curtain of their flat – was a motivation for someone as perfect as Zayn Malik.

That was not an everyday happening.

Zayn looked away again, probably the one being ashamed for Harry because he’s staring too much again – and perhaps with his jaw hanging open and with emoji heart eyes. Harry should tell Zayn to get used to that because faces like his were supposed to be stared at like some painting in a museum.

‘I just realised that if you were brave enough to ask me out on a date despite my reputation,’ Zayn continued. ‘Maybe I can also be brave to see where this is going.’

Harry remembered that day. He was so nervous that he was an inch close into fainting and crying and vomiting at the same time. So he told Zayn that and the boy laughed.

‘Why would you be?’ Zayn asked curiously, raising an eyebrow and lips still tinted with a smile. ‘You could probably charm the pants off anyone you like.’

Harry smiled at the compliment and blushed. He shook his head slowly, feeling as if he was asking Zayn on a date. ‘Because I really really _really_ like you.’

He peeked under his lashes for Zayn’s reaction, not even knowing that he had averted his eyes at some point of his confession. And he wasn’t ready for Zayn’s hand to cup the back of his neck and pull their face close.

Next thing he knew, Zayn was kissing him. And Harry closed his eyes to drop all his other senses except for the one in his lips because he wanted to make sure he remembered every moment of this kiss, to tattoo into memory the taste of Zayn’s lips.

Harry swore the heavens opened and the angels sung their hymn of congratulations. But of course, none of that really happened. Not that it mattered because all he can think of was Zayn’s gentle and soft lips against his.

When the other boy pulled away, he was smiling – the kind that made Harry think of that _someday_ that Zayn was talking about.

‘My mum always did say that if someone is nervous to talk to you that’s because they want to impress you. And why do you wanna impress someone anyway, right?’

Harry just stared at Zayn, memorising the hazel colour of his eyes.

‘Unless you really like them,’ Zayn continued.

He blushed. It’s one thing to know for yourself that you like someone but another for the person you like to acknowledge how much you’re nervous around them because you like them. It was as if you’re telling a murderer that you will be alone in your house that night and that you have not locked the doors.

‘I like you too, Harry,’ Zayn said and Harry can hear – maybe he was imagining it? – the edge on his voice, the crack, the nerve; and he wondered if that was how he sounded (not really because he knew he sounded like a small child about to cry and beg) when he asked Zayn on a date.

Zayn was then looking at him like Harry was the sea, the ocean – dangerous but at the same time exciting and wonderful.

Harry smiled so broadly it almost hurt his face. But he barely registers that because hearing Zayn say that he liked him too was sending endorphins all over his body and it fluttered his heart like it was a wing of a hummingbird.

‘One thing though,’ he said seriously. ‘I have to warn you,’ he continued and Zayn stiffened at bit at the words. ‘I may drown you with my love.’ He smiled his best winning smile – the kind that made babies smile back.

‘You’re such a sap.’ Zayn laughed.

 

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill! :) xoxo


End file.
